


There shall be found a seedling

by jenni4765



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6006091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni4765/pseuds/jenni4765
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As requested by the recipient, this story involves hurt/comfort, healing, nonsexual physical intimacy, deep friendship banter and moments of intense emotional connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There shall be found a seedling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



"I'll let myself out then, if you're certain you will not need me anymore this night." Eowyn drifted out of the healing room where Faramir lay, slipping into the hallway like a white wisp, easing the heavy door closed behind her with hardly any sound.

She spied Aragorn approaching silently along the corridor, arms folded in front of him over his dark red robe. On his somber face was an expression of grave concern, the lines around his eyes and mouth more pronounced than she had remembered. They were downturned in such a way that all his new lines merged with the old, etched deeper into his face. He looked not only older but stately.

"How is he?" The future king's voice was hardly audible, a whispered rasp.

She thought she must not look much better than him. They had all suffered so much - elves, men and little folk - too much - but despite the past unfortunate encounters between Aragorn and Eowyn they shared the same deep concern for the man of Gondor who lay on his sickbed within the Houses of Healing. Somehow the two of them had managed to survive and so had he in the end, although just barely, but Faramir's condition was much worse than theirs, though they both wore telltale signs of heavy fatigue, a weariness too intense for much carrying on of conversation.

"He lives. He will live, but I am much worried about him still."

"What is it that worries you? Is anyone with him now?"

She looked at Aragorn at length, not sure if his tone held a note of reproach. She shook her head to clear the fog that descended in her mind, confusing her thoughts and afecting her reason. Now was not the time for trying to judge what people meant.

"Yes. Ioreth tends to him. What worries me most is what lies within his heart, or more accurately, what does not."

"His heart, my lady?"

"Yes. He seems to have lost hope." She raised her white hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I believe he needs someone to love him." Her cheeks turned pink at her own words.

Aragorn nodded his understanding and they parted. Their whole encounter had taken but a few seconds yet Aragorn had learned much from it. He pushed open the door to Faramir's room.

After speaking with the healer Ioreth for a moment abut Faramir's condition, Aragorn went to sit beside the young brother of Boromir and lifted one of his hands. It was cold and Aragorn gently rubbed the fingers between his two palms, trying to warm the flesh while he looked upon the sleeping man. Faramir lay with eyes closed, not responding to the touch of Aragorn's hands, yet the sight of his chest slowly rising and falling gave Aragorn some hope for a good recovery. He bent his head and sighed with relief. The weariness seemed not to have touched Aragorn as much as it had all the othrs who had fought, save perhaps Legolas.

Wanting to take a look at his wounds, Aragorn carefully opened the nightgown that Faramir had been dressed in, all the way down to his feet. He turned to find Ioreth standing close by.

"Are his wounds very bad?"

"They are not the worst I've seen," she replied.

Aragorn noticed how thin Faramir looked as he lay still. He had not yet responded to any touches although his eyelids had flickered a bit when his flesh was exposed to the air. The fragrance of freshly stewed herbs hung in the air as did the healing steam from the deep kettles that kept them hot. Bending over the stricken man, Aragorn inspected every inch of him, using his healing touch upon the wounded places. He could not help but admire the man's fair appearance and finely boned form. He could see how attractive he would be when healthy and could understand how the white lady of Rohan would feel this attraction to him on a superficial level. But there was much more to Eowyn, and he sensed Faramir, than that.

Thoughts of Boromir entered Aragorn's mind. He had come to know the man of Gondor as he would a brother. And now before him lay Boromir's younger brother, the last surviving member of that noble family. Aragorn shook his head, remembering the grief he had felt at Boromir's weakness and subsequent demise. He looked upon Faramir's face, so youthful and unlined in his sleep. This was not a weak man. Aragorn had been told of all he had endured but he would not have believed how much he had suffered by looking at him. Faramir was not as large or powerful a man as Boromir, but his fair, unlined face showed some inner strength even in repose. 

Eowyn had expressed worry about him and Aragon still had some concern because of this. But the young man looked at peace. Aragorn carefully replaced his nightgown and pulled the covers of his bed closely around him. He knew that sleep could be an effective healer, especially when the injured person had been treated with Athelas, a healing herb with many useful properties besides that of reducing pain. But mental pain was a different thing entirely.

Staring at Faramir, Aragorn willed him to survive. Too much had been lost or destroyed on their quest. The Fellowship had succeeded against overwhelming odds and should be overjoyed at the final outcome but the seemingly endless battles and horrors they had all witnessed had changed them all. Nothing seemed certain anymore. Nothing could be relied upon without question any longer, except perhaps each others' loyalty and courage. He sensed that Faramir, like Boromir had been, was one of them, one of the makeshift family they had created out of need.

Never before had Aragorn been able to see the difference between good and evil so clearly as in this moment, and he saw that Faramir was too good to lose. He squeezed the young man's hand more tightly. To his surprise he felt the once-cold fingers, now a bit warmer, squeezing his own in return.

Aragorn had not smiled for many days but now he felt the corners of his mouth turn upward in delight at this response. The tightness that had been living in his forehead faded away while a flicker of hope grew within his breast.

Presently Faramir's eyes fluttered open and a moment later they widened when his gaze fell upon Aragorn. His eyebrows rose in a questioning expression and although he tried to open his dry lips he could not muster a sound to utter between them.

Aragorn let go of Faramir's hand, gesturing to the hovering Ioreth to bring him some water. When she handed him a flask he held it to Faramir's lips with a surprisingly steady hand, letting the young man take a few slow sips of the refreshing liquid laced with herbs.

"You need not try to speak yet if it takes too much effort." Aragorn's tone was gentle.

Faramir blinked. Aragorn thought he could detect a sparkle in his grey eyes. He gazed upon the fair man with the youthful face and smiled.

"I am Aragorn," he said simply.

A puzzled look appeared in Faramir's eyes while he stared back.

"I am known to be a fairly competent healer." He cracked a bit of a smile.

Faramir continued to stare at him with a puzzled expression growing in his eyes.

Aragorn felt drawn to him the same way he had toward Boromir, only perhaps a bit more. Faramir seemed less bold, less intensely combative than his brother. He seemed more questioning, more reasonable. Aragorn sensed a more reflective soul, gentle and more capable of love and of giving of himself than Boromir had been, and realized that what Eowyn had meant was that because he had lost everything - all of his family, almost all of his men, and now his home because he would have to give up the stewardship of Gondor for the newly returned king to rule - he truly had nothing more to live for. Except perhaps love.

Suddenly Aragorn's heart felt all of the loss, all the pain that Faramir had suffered, as well as his own. It came rushing over him in a huge wave, causing him to fall upon Faramir, folding him in a crushing embrace, laying his head upon the man's shoulder and weeping copious tears. He felt Faramir's heart beating beneath his own breast and his hand sought Faramir's once more.

"I'm sorry," he cried, "I am sorry for all you have suffered. But please know that you have friends with you now, though you do not yet know them. And with one of them lies the promise of a great love."

He raised his head, the tears gone, and gazed once more upon Faramir's face. A look of bewilderment was still in the young man's eyes but with it a smile began to raise the corners of his mouth. His hand gripped that of Aragorn, tightening around it and he lifted his other to rest on the knee of the future king.

"How can you be so sure?" He whispered. His fair grey eyes searched Aragorn's face for an answer.

"Now is a time for growth and for renewal," Aragorn replied. "New things shall spring forth from the earth, good and wonderful things. The war is over, the darkness gone. We have survived and most important, love. Love has survived. It is time to build our families again."

Faramir gazed upon him and a golden glow of hope shone in his eyes. He raised Aragorn's hand to his lips and kissed it.


End file.
